The Allure of Darkness
by NvonHelvete
Summary: After a running into a patch of bad luck, Valendar Sadri begins a quest to repay the debt he has incurred, albeit through questionable means. In Valendar's eyes, the recently deserted Aretino residence is the perfect place to begin- or so he thought. He quickly finds himself wrapped up in something far more sinister than petty thievery. Dark Brotherhood fun. Enjoy! :D
1. A Debt Incurred

Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls and Skyrim belong to Bethesda.

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**Chapter 1: A Debt Incurred**

The pale moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the cobbled paths winding their way through the city. From his shadowed position beside Viola Giordano's house, the Dark Elf crept forward a little, listening intently. The sound of feet and the faint flicker of torchlight made him withdraw into the darkness again, not daring to move a muscle. As the footsteps receded, the elf let out a sigh of relief and snuck out of hiding. Quick as a flash, he darted around the corner to the large wooden doors and immediately set about picking the lock. He furrowed his brow in concentration, gingerly turning the fragile piece of metal one way and then the other. After what seemed like an eternity, a small click indicated that he had been successful, allowing him to slip silently into the house.

He found himself in a large, well-kept room with a fire crackling invitingly in the hearth. Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the plain silver band and stared at it intently for a moment.

"I don't care where you put it- just make sure that it is returned safely." Revyn had said as he handed the ring over. "And **don't** get caught. I can't be associated with this whole affair, Valendar. It'd be bad for business. Have I made myself clear?"

Valendar glanced around, searching for somewhere to leave the item. His eyes fell upon the ornate chest of drawers to his right. _Perfect... _Valendar thought as he stole towards it, carefully opening the top drawer and placing the ring amongst the neatly folded garments lying within. He pushed the drawer back with a snap, smiling contentedly to himself, and turned to leave. As he stretched out a hand to grab the handle, the door swung suddenly inwards and he came face to face with the very person he'd been hoping to avoid.

Viola Giordano's face shifted expression rapidly- from confusion to surprise and then fear- before finally arranging itself into a mask of rage.

"Thief!" she screeched. "Somebody help! I'm being robbed!"

Valendar cursed and took flight, pushing past the yelling woman as he ran into the open.

"Guards!" she cried. "He's getting away!"

His heart was drumming wildly in his chest and the blood roared in his ears as he hared through the narrow streets, panic hindering his sense of direction. The shouts of the guards were becoming louder, spurring him to run faster. His legs screamed in protest, and his lungs felt like they were about to burst, but he didn't dare slow his pace. Valendar turned sharply and made his way down a lane on the left, glancing over his shoulder to see how close the guards were on his tail.

"Stop!" Someone bellowed from somewhere in front of him. Valendar turned and spotted the gigantic guard, but by then it was too late to react. He careered straight into the human mountain and went flying. Valendar groaned, temporarily dazed by his tumble, and shakily tried to pick himself up off the ground. The guard seized him with unnerving deftness by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to his feet. Valendar writhed like an eel in his iron grip, desperately trying to free himself, but with little success.

"You're coming with me." the guard snarled, roughly twisting Valendar's arms behind his back, causing the elf to yelp in pain, and marched him off towards the Windhelm dungeons.

* * *

Revyn Sadri was rather pleased. That confounded ring was finally out of his life, and business could go on as usual. He gazed into his living quarters, where a simple wooden bow was propped against the wall and a small canvas sack lay on the floor beside it. Valendar hadn't yet returned from his task, despite it being the middle of the day, and that bothered him somewhat. _Probably passed out in the New Gnisis Cornerclub_, he reassured himself, pushing the thought aside and absent mindedly flicking a speck of dust off the counter he was leaning upon. He looked up as the shop door opened and the Cornerclub's proprietor edged his way inside.

"Ambarys, this is a surprise. Is there something you need?" Revyn said, hastily straightening up and assuming his usual businesslike manner. Ambarys shook his head.

"I've been hearing a few rumours." the innkeeper began cautiously. "There's talk of your brother, Valendar."

Revyn groaned, a heavy feeling growing in his heart. "What about him?"

"By all accounts, he was apprehended last night after breaking into Viola Giordano's home and is currently being held in the city prison." Ambarys explained, watching as Revyn buried his face in his hands with a strangled cry. "I hadn't considered him to be the thieving type... Although it would explain the copious amounts of gold he has on occasion flashed around..." he continued contemplatively.

"There is considerable money to be made in mercenary work, I've heard." Revyn said weakly, kneading his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Ambarys shrugged.

"It could be a misunderstanding- you know how rumours are- but I thought you should know regardless."

Revyn nodded wearily and sighed. "Yes, I, ah... appreciate it. Thank you." As soon as he was alone once more, he gathered up the fat coin purse he had stashed under the counter and set a course for the Palace of the Kings.

* * *

The faint sound of footsteps and the jangling of keys drifted through the stone corridor, arousing the interest of the inmates housed within Windhelm's prison. As Jorleif descended the stairs with a sour-looking Revyn in tow, a few of the dungeon's inhabitants began hollering and rattling the cell doors. A fresh-faced Breton who had been incarcerated a few hours prior was stretching his arms as best he could through the spaces between the bars, hysterically protesting his innocence and begging to be released. From his huddled position on the floor of his own cell, Valendar slowly opened his eyes, listening to the human with growing amusement.

"I swear I didn't do it!" the Breton shrieked, an expression of sheer terror creeping across his pleasant features. "Please, you have to release me! I've been set up, can't you see?"

Jorleif swept past without so much as a glance in his direction, causing the young man to howl like a wounded animal and pound the door with his fists.

"Here." the steward said haughtily, coming to a halt and gesticulating towards the cell. Revyn edged forward, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The smell in the cramped dungeon was unbearable, and the wailing of the prisoners was most disconcerting. Valendar, looking more dishevelled than usual, was sat with his knees drawn tightly up towards his chest, gazing into the middle distance.

"Brother! By the ancestors, am I glad to see you!" Valendar said, a grin spreading across his narrow face. He lept to his feet and darted towards the cell door. Revyn glared icily at his sibling before turning to face Jorleif.

"How much?" he asked stiffly. The steward unfurled the thick roll of parchment in his hand and began to read.

"200 septims for breaking and entering, 40 for trespassing, 800 for attempted robbery, 1000 for assault..."

Valendar snorted. "One could argue I am guilty on two of those counts, I admit. But attempted robbery? And assault? I did no such thing."

"Viola Giordano says otherwise." Jorleif said curtly, focusing his attention on the list once more.

"Of course she does." Valendar muttered darkly. "The insufferable old hag."

"The bounty comes 2040 septims, plus a further 200 for resisting arrest." Jorleif announced to a mortified Revyn, who reluctantly held out the bulging purse he'd brought. Jorleif weighed the pouch in his hand before peering inside. Once convinced that all the gold was there, the steward scrawled something at the bottom of his parchment and unlocked the cell door.

"Good day to you." Jorleif said, taking his leave of the two elves.

An awkward pause followed. Revyn's blood red eyes blazed like two hot coals as he stood regarding Valendar, slowly grinding his teeth.

"What part of 'Do not get caught' was hard for you to understand?" he spat.

"In my defence, I hadn't counted on running into an elderly woman at two o'clock in the morning. I was under the impression that people tend to be asleep at that hour." Valendar retorted, scowling heavily. "What does it matter anyway? No-one's accusing _you_ of creeping around Viola's home."

"'What does it matter?'" Revyn echoed, his voice shrill. "Are you intentionally being dense? The business' reputation is in question, and the steward has _kindly _informed me that my taxes are increasing with effect from the next month. I no longer have the coin they're demanding readily available, as I've just used it all on bailing you out of this dump."

Valendar fell into an abashed silence and stared down at the tips of his leather boots. The dark brown surface was permanently lined with wrinkles, and he could see a small hole starting to form where the leather and the sole met. He wriggled his toes, not daring to look the furious Revyn in the eye.

"I have a little over 200 septims left in my bag- take them." he said eventually. "But that's all I have."

"Then you'd better find a way of getting the rest, and quickly. I've helped you out of your predicament, so you're going to help me out of mine, seeing as it's **your** fault I'm in this mess!" his brother hissed, jabbing Valendar sharply in the chest with a finger. "I don't want to see you anywhere near me or my shop again until you've got every single one of those 2000 septims, you hear me?"

Without waiting for a response, Revyn turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Valendar alone in the dank underbelly of the palace to wonder how in Oblivion he would free himself of that kind of debt.

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_Just to set the scene a little. :) Next chapter coming soon- things will start to happen, I promise! :D_


	2. Aretino's Request

Disclaimer: I still don't own Skyrim or the Elder Scrolls series. I will, however, take responsibility for Valendar. :)

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**Chapter 2: Aretino's Request**

Valendar was at a loss. He was perched upon one of the Cornerclub's rickety wooden stools drumming his long fingers furiously upon the surface of the bar, allowing Ambarys' words to wash over him, occasionally punctuating the unending chatter with a grunt or a nod of his head. After having retrieved his belongings, Valendar had come to the tavern by force of habit, hoping he'd be able to clear his head a little, but had only succeeded in getting thoroughly interrogated by the proprietor, who was fishing for juicy details about the events of the previous evening.

The barkeep, finally realising he was getting no further answers to his questions, began rushing around the room, sloshing filthy water onto the floor and pushing it around with an equally grubby mop, grumbling to himself as he went. After a couple of minutes of furious mopping, he paused and straightened up, massaging his sore muscles.

"Have you heard this business regarding the Aretino boy?" he asked, unable to take the lack of conversation any longer, casting a glance over at the slight figure clad in simple attire, raven locks falling untidily around his shoulders.

"Well, he's living at some orphanage in Riften, if that's what you mean. That's common knowledge." Valendar said, stifling a yawn with his hand. He twisted around on his stool to face Ambarys, stretching his legs out and reclining against the counter.

"Indeed, but it is said he has returned to Windhelm, wild with grief and is performing the Black Sacrament inside that old house!" the innkeeper said dramatically as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain upon the wooden planks. Valendar raised an eyebrow.

"That's a little extreme."

Ambarys chuckled, wiping the perspiration off his forehead with a sleeve. "Some even claim to have heard strange noises coming from there in the middle of night. I admit, the place is on the creepy side, but I'm not sure I believe all of this 'ritual' nonsense."

"Probably just some tale invented by the Jarl to stop people from venturing inside until the place is ready to be sold."

"Aye, most likely. And it's worked! No one dares go near the place now. It's completely deserted."

It was though a light had been turned on inside his brain, banishing the thick fog that had been swirling within, sending a small smile dancing across his lips. _The solution was right in front of me all along... _he thought gleefully as he bid a hurried farewell to a perplexed Ambarys. _The Aretino house!_

* * *

It had been a piece of cake getting inside the mansion without attracting attention- not even the guards dared to patrol close to the ominous looking building- although now that he was through the vast double doors, Valendar could feel his confidence rapidly draining away. There was definitely something unnerving about the place. Darkness was pressing in from all sides, threatening to suffocate him, and the scent of death hung heavy in the air. _Blast Ambarys and his gossip!_ he thought angrily as a shiver spread it's icy fingers down his spine. He stood-stock still, ears pricked, gripping the rough leather hilt of his dagger as though his life depended on it.

Nothing. Not a sound.

The air rushed out of Valendar's lungs with a soft hiss as he released the breath he had inadvertently been holding.

"You idiot. Of course there's nothing here." he said aloud in an attempt to pull himself together. He conjured a small ball of light in the palm of his hand and crept slowly up the stairs, his heart leaping into his mouth as one of the ancient floorboards gave an almighty creak underfoot. The pale glow of the spell illuminated the immediate surroundings sufficiently enough for Valendar to find his way without tripping over the various pieces of furniture that lay strewn everywhere. As he edged further into the living quarters, he suddenly became aware of the faint flickering of what appeared to be fire. With curiosity overcoming his greed, Valendar stole in the direction it was coming from.

"What in Oblivion..." he gasped, his eyes widening in horror as he absorbed the grisly sight before him.

A human skeleton was sprawled in the middle of the floor, encircled by tiny candles, their flames dancing merrily in the gloom. A sinister black book caught his attention and he made a grab for it, tracing his fingers across the dubious tome's cover before flicking through the pages, growing more and more uneasy as he progressed. Diagrams and strange incantations graced the aged parchment, and Valendar found that he was both intrigued and appalled by them.

"Ancestors... There **was** truth in Ambarys' story after all!" he whispered.

"Finally, my prayers have been answered!" A small, excited voice cut through the air like a knife through butter. Valendar whirled around, sending the book tumbling from his grasp. A boy of no older than eight was peering eagerly up at him through hollow eyes, a toothy grin upon his pale face. "I knew you'd come... I just knew it!" He clapped his hands in delight. "I performed the Sacrament over and over, with the body and everything! And you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

"I... er... There_ might_ have been a mistake." Valendar stammered, regarding the young Imperial warily. Aretino giggled.

"Of course there hasn't! I prayed to the Night Mother and I waited and hoped for so long, and now you're here! You can accept my contract!" he said, beaming.

"Your contract?"

The boy nodded fervently. "The contract on Grelod the Kind... She wasn't kind! She was horrible to all of us at the orphanage. I hate her! She's the cruelest and foulest person alive! She must die!" The excitement vanished instantaneously upon speaking Grelod's name, being replaced by an air of pure loathing. Valendar was rendered speechless, aghast by how much malice the Aretino boy harboured within him.

"And I'll pay you, of course. See!" Aretino continued, darting to a dresser and producing a silver dish that sparkled temptingly in the candlelight. The elf eyed it longingly, admiring the intricate engravings upon it's surface. It would fetch a nice price, of that he could be certain.

"Alright lad, tell me what I need to know." Valendar flashed the boy a smile and clapped him gently on the shoulder. If Grelod was all that stood between him and his prize, then so be it- she had to die. After all, how hard could it be?

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_A relatively quick chapter for you today- I *ought* to be preparing for a speaking exam, but I couldn't resist posting another part. I know the details about the beginning of the Innocence Lost quest were not strictly accurate (such as dialogue)- it worked better for me this way. :) Riften is up next- should be good fun!_


	3. Grelod's Demise

Disclaimer: Nope, Skyrim is still not mine.

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**Chapter 3: Grelod's Demise**

Thunder growled menacingly overhead and the dark grey clouds drew closer, bringing with them the refreshing scent of an imminent storm. A failed attempt to coerce the cabbie into driving him to Riften without paying up front meant that Valendar- to his utmost disgust- had had to undertake the entirety of the arduous journey on foot. To add insult to injury, a lone bandit, taking the elf for easy prey, had sprung out onto the road before him brandishing a two-handed axe, yelling something about looting Valendar's corpse. Skipping hastily out of the axe's reach when it had slashed in his direction, Valendar whipped out his own weapon and clumsily planted it into the bandit's neck with all the strength he could muster, ensuring, ironically enough, that the bandit suffered the very same fate he had been threatening the Dark Elf with. Valendar, on the other hand, had emerged from the encounter 100 septims richer after having helped himself to the fallen man's coin purse as compensation for the inconvenience.

Lightning flashed and the heavens opened, soaking him to the skin within seconds. Flicking the strands of dark hair out of his eyes, he continued trudging along the well-worn road, his legs feeling as heavy as lead. After what seemed like hours, the enormous fortifications of Riften slowly loomed out of the gloom, giving him a sorely needed surge of energy.

"Greetings, traveller." one of the guards called cheerfully as Valendar approached. "As is customary, all those intending on visiting the hold capital are required to pay 200 septims in order to gain access."

"A visitor's tax, if you will." the other added, stepping out before Valendar, forcing the elf to stop in his tracks. He regarded them sceptically. Riften's reputation for being rotten to the core was not exactly Skyrim's best kept secret, which inspired little trust of the two men with whom he was speaking.

"A visitor's tax?" Valendar echoed, alarm bells ringing deafeningly inside his head. Despite having almost no knowledge of the obligatory payments within the Reach, he would have bet all the gold in Tamriel that no such tax existed. He shook his head firmly and made to skirt around the two men, but was stopped by a firm hand that then pushed him roughly away from the threshold.

"Those are the rules, elf. If you don't pay up, you ain't getting in." the guard snarled, folding his arms across his chest and glaring threateningly at him. Not wanting to risk a fight with people who were almost definitely more dangerous than a whole gang of bandits combined, Valendar went for the only other alternative he could come up with- blackmailing the blackmailers.

"Despite your valiant efforts to disguise the fact, it is, I'm afraid, blatantly obvious that this is a ruse. I imagine it'd be highly inconvenient if everyone was to find out about your scam." Valendar said, taking great care to construct his sentences appropriately. He glanced from one con artist to the other, relief washing over him as he saw the disappointment spread across their features. "I suggest letting me in before I make things rather difficult for you. It's always surprising how quickly rumours travel, don't you think?"

"Alright, alright! Keep it down! You can enter." the men hissed, glancing uneasily around them in the off-chance that another potential victim had heard the exchange. "And hold your tongue if you know what's good for you. You cause trouble- we'll slit your throat."

"I'll bear that in mind." Valendar said drily, pushing his way past the guards and into the city.

* * *

Unable to think of anything more productive to spend his time on whilst waiting for nightfall, Valendar made a beeline for the tavern. Attracting a few curious stares from the locals as he passed, he ordered sustenance from the barmaid and flopped onto the nearest available chair in order to enjoy it. The mead in Riften, he noted, tasted incredibly sweet, and it spread a soothing warmth through his entire body, banishing the aches that had been plaguing his joints. He scratched at the label on the bottle, recalling his conversation with Aretino about their agreement. Once the boy had finished his elaborate and somewhat unflattering description of the old woman, Valendar had managed to extract a few snippets of useful information from him. Grelod had an assistant, of whom he needed to be wary, although Aretino had expressed that she must not, under any circumstance, come to harm.

"You're not allowed to kill her. Constance will run the orphanage once Grelod is gone, and everyone will be so much happier!" Aretino had said, beaming broadly.

The elf took a bite out of the stale lump of bread that had been lying untouched on his plate and chewed pensively. It was only now that he was here that the reality of what he had got himself into hit home. It was one thing to kill in self-defence, but commit murder? It would be easier to go back to Windhelm and lie to the boy about having carried out his 'contract', but he didn't have the heart to. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt sorry for the child, and saw it as his duty to fulfill his promise.

"I bet you've never done an honest day's work in your life, have you, lad? I require the help of someone with your particular _talents_." a voice whispered sharply in his ear, interrupting his musings.

Valendar blinked at the auburn haired Nord who casually seated himself across from him, temporarily lost for words.

"I am certain you'd find that the vast majority of those in here have never done an 'honest day's work', as you put it, who would be more than capable of assisting you." he replied after a moment's pause.

The Nord laughed loudly. "Aye, you could well be right there. I have, however, a proposition you might be interested in, if you'll give me a moment of your time..."

Valendar took a swig of mead and shook his head. "I have something I need to attend to right now, so I'm afraid I will have to decline."

His companion shrugged. "That's a shame. When you do have time, find me in the marketplace and we can discuss matters further." he said amicably, getting to his feet and extending a hand, which Valendar reluctantly took. The Nord inclined his head politely and strode away, allowing him to return to his planning in peace.

* * *

Once the stars had appeared upon the inky canvas of black, Valendar left the comfort of the inn and stole to the orphanage, which was an even more depressing place at night. _It's no wonder the Aretino boy's a little on the odd side. This hole is enough to send anyone off the rails. _he thought as he made short work of the lock. Upon entering, he could hear Grelod bellowing at the children to get to bed, throwing all kinds of insults at the poor orphans in order to get them to oblige. Cautiously, Valendar scouted around for the assistant, who was thankfully busy in one of the adjacent rooms, allowing him to turn his attention back to the frightful old woman.

She had settled herself beside the fire, her back turned towards him, and Valendar seized his chance. He unsheathed his blade and snuck towards her, breathing deeply to stop himself from shaking. In one swift movement, he clamped one hand tightly around her mouth and pressed the dagger to her throat. Grelod struggled in his grasp, gazing up into the elf's thin, pale face, her eyes wide in fear. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, and a voice in his head was screaming at him to get it over and done with before it was too late.

The dagger slipped through flesh, and the headmistress slumped in her chair with a gurgle as her life drained away. Valendar looked down at his hands, trembling like a leaf. They were sticky, and the weapon glistened nastily in the light of the fire. A nervous laugh escaped from his lips, and a couple of the children stirred in their sleep, mumbling and twisting their small bodies underneath the blankets. Valendar fled back to the inn, only pausing to rinse his bloody hands and weapon in the canal. After flinging a few coins at the surprised Argonian behind the bar, Valendar collapsed into bed, staring up at the thick beams supporting the roof. He would take a carriage out of this dump as soon as morning broke, he concluded, drifting into an uneasy sleep. The hunt would almost certainly be on for the murderer by that point, and he had no desire to spend more time in a jail cell, particularly as Revyn was neither present nor, for that matter, inclined to bail him out again.

* * *

As the sun began casting a reddish glow across the horizon, Valendar hauled himself out of bed and hurried to arrange his passage back to Windhelm. As he was paying the driver, a shout shattered the silence, making him jump out of his skin.

"Hey, Dark Elf! I've got a message for you."

A young man jogged up to him and pushed something into his hands before sprinting away again. He stared after him in amazement before unfolding the letter and absorbing what it contained. He frowned. Besides the two words that were scrawled, the oddest thing was the black hand print slap bang in the centre of the paper. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on why. Shrugging, he stuffed the letter into a pocket and quickly clambered into the back of the carriage. With a lurch, the cart rolled into motion and Riften soon disappeared from view. Valendar made himself as comfortable as possible, quietly pleased with how things had turned out. The woman was dead, and he would get his payment from Aretino. He shuffled uneasily. Something was nagging him about that message. He pulled the crumpled note out of his pocket again and studied the hand closely, trying to recall where he had seen it before.

Realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks: The grim tome at the Aretino house, with it's gruesome diagrams and that strange black hand... The sign of the Dark Brotherhood. Shuddering, he tore the parchment into tiny pieces and tossed them away, watching them flutter in the breeze like hundreds of small butterflies. He closed his eyes and tried to catch up on the sleep he desperately needed, but the spidery characters from the letter kept appearing, as though they were burned permanently onto the inside of his eyelids-

**_WE KNOW._**

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_I apologise for having taken so long with this! Exams are over, so hopefully I can update this a bit more often! :) A big thank you to those who have reviewed/ added my story to your favourites- I'm pleased you like it, and it encourages me to write more. I just hope this chapter has lived up to your expectations! :P  
_

_Slight edit so that the DB letter was 100% accurate- I've actually never received the letter myself, and had no idea what this fabled message looked like. Forgive me!  
_


	4. The Brotherhood Awaits pt 1

Disclaimer: Alas, Skyrim does not belong to me, so I will make do with writing this fanfiction instead. :)

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**Chapter 4: The Brotherhood Awaits- part 1  
**

Valendar had now reached the point where he was ready to admit he was drunk. In addition to the blurred vision and increased difficulty in stringing a coherent sentence together, the usually agreeable Ambarys was refusing flat out to serve him.

"Just one more... One! That's all I ask." he wheedled, stretching an arm over the bar and waving the empty mug underneath the innkeeper's nose.

"You've had more than enough, my friend." Ambarys said firmly, prising the metal tankard out of his hand and tossing it into a bucket behind the bar. "Sit there and sober up a while."

With a disappointed sigh, the elf slumped forward, resting his forehead against the solid wood of the counter. The surface was sticky and had the sweet scent of mead. Had he overturned a mug at some point? He couldn't remember. It felt as though some parts of the day had just vanished, lost in the swirling mist inside his head, but the opportunity for a little enjoyment had been too good to pass up, particularly as Niranye had just presented him with the means in which to do so. The Altmer had- as Valendar hoped she might- paid well for Aretino's heirloom, thrilled to have something of real value come her way.

As the hours wore on, however, what had started as a 'little enjoyment' quickly turned into a lot, leaving- if he was lucky- a tad over half of the gold he'd spent countless hours trying to earn. Valendar shrugged. _Tomorrow is a new day_, he reminded himself optimistically. _A day filled with new opportunities._ From what he could make out, the Winter War had recently run aground off the coast a few miles north-east of the city, and would be filled all kinds of cargo, just ripe for the picking.

_Tomorrow... _he repeated, sliding off his stool and standing unsteadily on his own two feet. He clung onto the bar for support as the world reeled and swayed in a way that reminded him of being out on a stormy ocean. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths. Perhaps some fresh air was in order, he thought as he stumbled towards the tavern door, knocking into the odd chair or table on his way out.

* * *

Revyn was settled upon the bed, staring intently at the flames flickering hypnotically in the hearth. Business was even slower than usual, and that had him worried. At this rate it was certain he'd be dragged down to the palace dungeons and locked away for tax evasion, associating with a criminal and Azura knows what else the Jarl's men could find to pin on him. He cursed Valendar's foolishness, anger flaring up inside him. Due to his actions, even the most loyal of customers were beginning to show reluctance to part with their money. And the questions!

"How dare they doubt the legitimacy of my wares!" he muttered furiously under his breath. "I do **not** condone the selling of stolen property, unlike some."

He gave a start as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone entering the store. Revyn breathed evenly, regaining his composure enough to hurry out and greet them cheerfully. He stiffened as he laid eyes upon the tall woman who was waiting patiently in the next room. She was dressed in grey furs that were flecked with mud, her pale hair gathered loosely at the nape of her neck. Revyn forced a polite smile- as much as he appreciated their custom, he was nevertheless wary whenever a Nord ventured onto the premises.

"Good day to you. Might I be of any assistance?"

"I hope so. I've been on the road for a while, and need to replenish my supplies." she said, the words sounding almost poetic to his ears. Revyn had met a few outsiders in his time, and if he had to make an educated guess, he'd have said she was from the North. The Northerners he'd encountered had tended to be more quietly spoken and had a pleasant, lilting accent, unlike the coarse, aggressive tones found in the Southern areas of the province.

"Is there anything in particular you require?" he said, barely able to contain his excitement at the prospect of a sale.

"Health elixirs, if you have any." she replied, gazing around the room with interest. "And information. I have a pressing matter I need to attend to, but have no idea where to start."

"Well, the former I can provide. As for the latter.. I'll try my best, of course, but you might be better off asking Ambarys in the Cornerclub next door. Information is more his field. Comes with the territory, I suppose." Revyn gave her an apologetic shrug. He spent a few moments searching the shelves for the potions, before seizing a pair of minute glass phials and setting them neatly on the counter, side by side.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary. I have it on very good authority that you are the one to see in this matter." the Nord said brightly, flashing him a disarming smile as she counted the coins sitting in the palm of her hand. "You see, I need a location. I'm looking for some-"

Shouts resounded from outside, cutting her short. Revyn excused himself and crossed to the door. He tugged it open and regarded the events unfolding outside with growing horror.

A clearly intoxicated Valendar was standing millimeters from a raging Rolff Stone-Fist, both throwing insults back and forth at each other. Revyn's stomach tied itself in knots. Stone-Fist was well known for being an obnoxious and extremely dangerous fool who took immense pleasure in prowling the streets, bullying Argonians and Dark Elves. He believed them to be filth- a part of the Imperial plague devastating Skyrim, the land that rightfully belongs to the Nords and- by that logic- they needed to be punished. And punish he did- the Nord had once pounded an Argonian so hard that he died from his injuries, although he was never brought to account for his crime, presumably due to his brother's ties to the Jarl. Sadly, wherever Stone-Fist went, one was sure to find a handful of 'Skyrim for the Nords' supporters trailing after him, but Revyn was pleased to note that today was an exception to that rule. He took a couple of tentative steps forward, chewing nervously on his lower lip. Furious as he was with Valendar, he didn't wish to see him meet a similar end at the hands of that odious man.

"I was born here. Skyrim is as much my homeland as it is yours." he heard Valendar sneer.

The words hung in the air like a bad smell. Revyn watched helplessly as the colour rose rapidly in the Nord's cheeks, his fiery temperament assuming total control of his body. Stone-Fist let out an almighty howl and took a swing at the elf. With his hindered reaction times, Valendar was unable to dodge the incoming fist, and the punch caught him squarely on the nose. There was an unpleasant crunch, and a river of red began coursing down over his chin, snaking it's way through the scraggly beard before splashing onto the thin coating of winter's first snow at his feet. Revyn paled. He had never been good with blood- the mere sight of it sent his insides writhing.

"Are you alright?" His client had appeared at his elbow and was regarding him with concern.

"Yes. Perfectly. Thank you." he replied, a little more curtly than he'd intended.

"Do you know them?" she asked, pointing at the two brawling figures, who had by this point attracted a fair amount of attention from curious tavern goers. Revyn noticed that Ambarys was amongst the throng, no doubt so he could recall the tale down to the very last detail to those who had missed the event.

"Unfortunately, I do. The brutish thug is Rolff Stone-Fist. A real nasty piece of work. The drunkard is my _dear_ brother, Valendar. I have nothing more to say about him." The Northerner nodded thoughtfully. Revyn could have sworn he saw a faint flicker of a smile dance across her lips, but he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. She patted him gently on the shoulder before striding off towards her fellow countryman, her boldness causing a wave of anticipative chatter to roll through the group of bystanders.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Teaching this scum a lesson." Stone-Fist said gruffly, readying himself to take another swing at the battered Dunmer, who was struggling to stay on his feet. "If I kill him in the process, then all the better."

"I can't let you do that." The Northerner caught him deftly by the wrist and twisted it sharply. Stone-Fist hissed and tried to wrench himself free.

"Fool woman! Have you any pride? These maggots are destroying our country and you're standing here, defending them?" he bellowed, showering her in a spray of spittle.

"You're going to leave. Now. Do you understand?" she said darkly, tightening her grip on him.

Revyn observed in amazement as Stone-Fist's arm went slack as the aggression slowly but surely evaporated and was replaced by a look of sheer terror. The man cried out and bolted, his footsteps echoing through the stone alleys. The spectators, disappointed that the fun was over, returned to their affairs, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

"How did you...?" Revyn began, eyeing the Nord with new-found respect. Very few stood up to Stone-Fist and got away with it. The only person that came to mind was Brunwulf Free-Winter, whose name carried a great deal of weight in Windhelm due to his efforts in the Great War.

"Illusion magic. Fear is a powerful weapon, is it not?" the Northerner explained. "I've learnt that it's not always wise to defend oneself with steel, so alternatives need to be found."

She lent support to Valendar, who clumsily threw an arm around her neck and clung on for dear life. Revyn's eyes slid to the red smears that had appeared on the Nord's light attire, and he grimaced.

"Can you do please something about... _that?" _he said faintly, waving a hand in the direction of the mess that was gracing his brother's face.

"I can, but I left my sera in your store in my haste to see what was happening. Could you fetch them? I fear I may have my work cut out for me here." she said with a grin, struggling to keep her balance as Valendar's knees gave way. "You must be swift. The spell won't last long, and I'm certain that oaf come back to finish the job he started."

Revyn nodded and raced off. He returned no more than a minute later, carrying the items in question.

"By Azura..." he gasped, the bottles tumbling from his grasp and smashing into a thousand tiny pieces.

Neither the Northwoman nor Valendar was to be seen anywhere. They had, quite simply, vanished into thin air.

* * *

_Sincerest apologies for the extremely late update! It was a combination of trying to get the chapter to a standard that I am reasonably content with, and a whole load of additional studying that needed to be done, yuck. :( I hope you will all forgive me. ;D  
I have decided to spread the content I'd originally intended for just one chapter over the course of two, so we will meet the Brotherhood soon. Promise!  
Many thanks once again for reading, reviewing and adding to your favourites- it is most appreciated!_


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